


the ethics of being a sugar baby

by smalltonystark



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Steve's Money Issues, The NYC Neiman Marcus store as a central location and plot point, Tony Stark: Ethical Billionaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltonystark/pseuds/smalltonystark
Summary: At first, Steve doesn’t even notice.In his defense, he’s had much more important things on his mind. Namely, Tony’s chest and immediate access to it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 141





	the ethics of being a sugar baby

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, first SteveTony fic ever. And first fic in general since 2013. Major thanks to all of my mutuals on Tumblr who encouraged me to write this and beta-d it for me, especially anthonydarling, natasharxmanov, and lakeeriesaltmine.

At first, Steve doesn’t even notice. 

In his defense, he’s had much more important things on his mind. Namely, Tony’s chest and immediate access to it. 

Later, he’ll look back on all of these nights and call himself stupid, clumsy, too caught up in the scrape of Tony’s beard against his chin and Tony’s hands in his hair to care about anything else. The catalyst for his realization is, admittedly, quite small. It’s something Tony says to him, after they’ve worn themselves out and collapsed onto sweat-damp sheets.

“God, you’re gonna make me replace my whole wardrobe at this rate. Not that I mind, of course…” Tony trails off as he turns to him and runs his fingers lovingly down Steve’s bare chest, which is covered in rapidly-fading bitemarks. 

That pulls Steve out of the hazy, post-coital space he’d been floating in. He wraps his arm around Tony’s waist, pulls him ever-so-slightly closer. 

“What do you mean, replace your whole wardrobe?”

Tony huffs out a laugh as he turns back around, once again becoming the little spoon. “Come on, you’ve seen what you do to all of my shirts. Look at the one on the floor! Completely shredded, you animal,” he says, kicking the blanket off the bed and making himself comfortable against Steve’s body. 

Steve tenses up, then, blood running cold. Logically, he knows that Tony has money. He knows that Tony can get more shirts. He knows that this is the future, and Tony doesn’t have to stitch up his shirts with a thread and needle anymore. He knows, he knows, he _knows…_

Tony elbows him in the abdomen. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“We have been over this, Steven, I am not--”

“--you are not a stress ball, stop squeezing you, yes dear, whatever you say sweetheart.” Steve rolls his eyes at Tony’s theatrics, mouth turning up at the corners despite himself.

Tony exhales in a pattern that could be construed as a laugh. “Go to bed or I’ll sell all of my lingerie.”

Steve, knowing from experience to just drop the argument, lets his eyes fall shut as he tries not to think about how much he’s cost Tony.

***

Steve is nothing if not an expert at shoving down his feelings until they boil over like a lidded pot. As such, the next time he really pays much attention to this _thing_ of his is when Tony drags him to go clothes shopping a few days later. 

He doesn’t enjoy the errand much, but Tony had been _extra_ persuasive, with kisses along the back of Steve’s neck, that evil little man, he knows that’s where Steve is ticklish, promises of “it’ll be fun! We never go out anymore, baby, we’re so busy, spend some time with me,” and wide, pleading brown eyes, and Steve didn’t have the heart to say no. 

Tony takes him to the corner of 30th street and 10th avenue, into a store he actually recognizes. It’s bigger, brighter, and like everything in the future, very “Tony,” but he remembers his mother’s Neiman Marcus Company catalogs with their pages and pages of factory-made clothes, that year’s new hooverette [[ x ](https://vintagedancer.com/1930s/1930s-house-dresses/)] circled in red. 

Of course, the two of them aren’t going to look at house dresses. They probably don’t even make house dresses or corselets [[ x ](https://vintagedancer.com/1930s/women-1930s-fashion/)] anymore, thinks Steve, and even if they did, Tony wouldn’t want to wear them and-- Steve stops himself before he can think about Tony in garters anymore. They’re in public, for God’s sake. 

Tony pulls him aside to the shirt racks, hands him a few dozen button ups, and ushers him into the dressing rooms. The silk feels so smooth, catching in places against the calluses on his hands, almost too perfect to be held by him.

A small, guilty feeling in his gut tells him to check the price, but the selfish part of him, the one that wants to enjoy every aspect of being Tony Stark’s latest project, ignores it. 

No, instead Steve lets Tony dress him up like his own personal fashion model, and laughs when he puts together the most atrocious eyesore of an outfit in the world [[ x ](https://ironmanspussy.tumblr.com/post/621492292562370560/ults-tony-stark-ideal-outfit-moodboard)]. The bright red fedora clashes horribly with the crystal-covered shoes, and Tony had pulled on zebra-print boxers to go with the cheetah-print shirt, telling him “it’s not like anyone who wears these boxers is gonna be concerned with pants.” 

Tony drags him out of the store after a couple of hours, after wheedling him into getting another few suits and some shoes, with promises that they’ll go get them tailored for Steve’s shoulders and legs. He thinks about how his old Captain America costume always left him chafed red around his pecs and on the inside of his thighs, and tries to not blush at how off-handedly considerate Tony can be sometimes. 

After they get back to the tower, Steve collapses into bed, exhausted from their day out. As he drifts off, the guilt comes back, this time with a vengeance. 

_Neiman Marcus is obviously a pricey store. Tony must have spent_ thousands _on you today, and you don’t even have the decency to do something in return for him? To even offer to pay him back? You’re so selfish. You should be ashamed of yourself._

Steve lies awake and focuses heavily on his breathing, wills his heart rate to go down, and promises himself he’ll be brave about his emotions tomorrow. 

***

That morning, he wakes up like he’s going into a warzone. In a way, he is; entering Tony Stark’s bedroom, uninvited, to snoop around? Terrifying. 

Tony is already long gone by the time Steve gets to his floor and creeps his way into the suite. The guilt makes a reappearance even as he asks JARVIS to unlock Tony’s bedroom door, his thoughts all converging on _Tony’s even paying for you now. He took a day off yesterday to spend time with you, time he could have used to work on his SI projects, or the mountain of SHIELD paperwork that’s piled up lately, or anything except waste a day at a goddamn department store--_

He shakes his head, tries to reassure himself with the knowledge that Tony wanted to go out with him, he wanted to spend time with him, that’s why he asked, but his heart won’t stop beating, oh God, he’s going to die at the doorway of Tony’s walk-in closet--

“Steve? What are you doing?”

He turns his head towards Tony’s voice, and now, of course, is when the second wave of panic and self-loathing hits, taking a nosedive into _now Tony knows exactly how weak you are, he had to leave his job to check on you_ , and he tries to open his mouth, to explain himself, but all that comes out is a strangled noise as his knees threaten to give out.

Tony looks-- he looks worried, not angry. That’s not good. Steve can deal with anger, he knows how anger works. He’s not prepared for pity or concern. And that’s why he does the worst thing he could possibly do when literally backed into a corner: he lies to Tony’s face. 

“Nothing. I’m fine. I just… I missed you, this morning.”

Tony’s smarter than that, he’s always been able to see through Steve, so of course he calls him on it. “Uh huh, I missed you too, now tell me what’s going on.” He punctuates this with an eye-roll and an outstretched hand to pull Steve towards his bed.

They sit on the edge of the bed in silence for a few minutes, Steve too stubborn to talk, until Tony can’t stand it anymore.

“You know, I _really_ don’t appreciate having my intelligence questioned, Steven Grant. It’s very unattractive. Here I was thinking that nothing you did could be unattractive and yet, you managed to prove me wrong.” Tony gives him a slight smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Well, Steve might as well get it over with. Rip off the proverbial band-aid. 

“How much do I cost you?”

That makes Tony stop smiling.

“How much do you cost me? What’s gotten into you?” 

“I just- you said that I’m making you replace your wardrobe because I keep destroying your shirts, and they’re _so_ expensive, and you buy me so many nice things and I’ve _never_ offered to pay you back, and I don’t even know if I _could_ pay you back because I don’t even have a real job, I’m useless and you deserve someone better than me--” Steve realizes, vaguely, that he’s getting more and more choked up, and that there are tears threatening to spill.

Tony pulls Steve close, lets him rest his head against his shoulder, which feels safer than it should. 

“Is this all because of what I said in bed a few nights ago?”

Steve means to say yes, but it comes out as a wounded-sounding whimper. 

“Oh, honey, you know you don’t need to worry about that. What’s the point of sleeping with a billionaire if you don’t get to be a sugar baby?” Tony’s running a hand through his hair now, and it does a lot in the way of calming Steve down. 

“But I shouldn’t be a… a sunk cost for you! That’s wrong, I’m taking advantage.”

Tony sighs at him, then, and pulls Steve’s head up to face him. “Look at me, you’re not taking advantage. I know what that feels like.” 

Steve makes an indignant noise at that, because how dare someone try to take advantage of Tony, which makes Tony poke his nose and say, “Hey, do _not_ interrupt me when I’m trying to have a heartfelt discussion with you! We can talk about my tragic love life later, but let it be said that I, of all people, would know what it feels like to know that someone is only with you for the money.”

When Steve doesn’t respond, just stares at Tony with bright eyes, Tony continues. “I love spoiling you. I love taking you out around town like you’re Vivian Ward and I’m Edward Lewis.”

“I don’t understand that reference.” Steve feels his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, a familiar feeling when he’s around Tony.

“Have I not shown you Pretty Woman? You’ll love it.”

“Do you really mean it? You don’t, you know, think I’m selfish? For being like this? For not, uh, contributing?” Steve is just fishing for additional reassurance at this point; he’s done being brave about his emotions for the 

Tony smiles in full force, then, and moves to sit on Steve’s lap. “Oh, I’ll show you one way you can contribute. Take off your shirt.”

Steve does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, this was hard to write. If you didn't entirely despise this, I'm on Tumblr at ironmanspussy (very cursed URL, chaotic evil, I'm sorry), and my fic blog is theotherwasdeath.


End file.
